Complicated Little Emotions
by WillSherJohnKhan
Summary: Post TFP - "Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions."
1. Uncertainty

OUTSIDE MOLLY'S FLAT

Sherlock stood, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him, uncertain whether he should knock, or simply turn and walk away.

Uncertainty was not something Sherlock Holmes, the World's only consulting detective was used to feeling.

In fact, Sherlock ruefully acknowledged to himself, it was one of a whole array of emotions he wasn't used to dealing with. But it was one of many that were now bubbling to the surface, finally released with the revelation that he had a sister, and all that she had done...

Eurus, the very thought of her, what she had put him, John and Mycroft through.

And Molly...

The emotions he'd felt during and after the phone call were still very raw. They were what had brought him here, to her flat in the early hours of the morning.

Yet the hand he'd raised intending to knock still remained frozen, hesitant. What would be her response when she saw him? Would she allow him to explain?

What finally had his hand connecting with the door was the knowledge that in truth he couldn't hide away from this, he owed Molly Hooper a full explanation.

What happened after that was entirely her decision.

MOLLY'S FLAT – HALLWAY

Molly had been unable to sleep, the phone call with Sherlock still going round and round her head. One moment tears were pouring down her face, and the next she was so angry all she wanted to do was punch him.

She'd been in the kitchen about to make a cup of hot milk in the vain hope it would help her sleep, when she heard the car pull up outside her flat.

She heard someone exit the car that immediately pulled away. Then she'd listened as familiar footsteps made their way to her front door.

Of course instinctively she'd known who it was even before he'd got out of the car. Who else but Sherlock bloody Holmes would turn up at her flat at two o'clock in the morning?

As she stood in the hallway, dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt as Sherlock finally knocked on the door, the only thing she didn't know was whether she would be strong enough to never let him back into her heart again.


	2. Fear and Concern Shock and Exhaustion

OUTSIDE MOLLY'S FLAT

It felt like forever, but at last Sherlock heard Molly unlock the door.

MOLLY'S FLAT

What she expected upon opening the door was for the consulting git to barge in, and give her a quick-fire no-nonsense explanation for the humiliating phone call, before requesting that she completely forget the whole incident so that then they could carry on as they had before, as though nothing had happened.

But as soon as she saw him, all her hurt and anger instantly turned to concern. Sherlock looked shattered, his expression one of sadness, loss and utter devastation. With his shoulders slumped, he looked totally beaten. It broke her heart to see him that way.

When he didn't immediately move, Molly all but dragged him indoors, before leading him into the living room. Only then did she reluctantly let him go so that she could get a fire started.

Sherlock remained where he stood, his eyes downcast.

Moving back to his side, she managed with some effort to get his belstaff off. Almost immediately Sherlock began to shiver uncontrollably, and Molly realised he was going into shock.

Leading him over to the fire, she settled him into the overstuffed armchair, before grabbing a warm blanket from the closet and wrapping it around him. She then headed to the kitchen to make him a mug of hot chocolate, which she placed into his shaking hands and assisted him in raising it to his lips.

A quick examination revealed injuries to his hands. She grabbed a pair of tweezers that she used to remove several splinters, before rubbing antiseptic cream inter the more nasty looking wounds. But other than that none of the injuries he'd sustained could account for the shock. That left psychological trauma. But what could be so traumatic as to leave him in this state.

And then she thought of Mary, and her blood ran cold as another possibility presented itself.

Taking Sherlock's face in her hands, she forced his unfocused gaze to meet her fearful one. "What's happened, Sherlock? Is it John? Rosie?"

The agitation in Molly's voice worked its way into Sherlock's numbed sub-conscious. The events of not only the phone call, but all that had happened since he'd learned of the existence of his sister hitting him without warning the moment she'd opened the door. Rousing himself from his stooper, he now focussed on reassuring Molly that all, as far as their friend and goddaughter were concerned, was well.

Mirroring her actions, Sherlock gently held her face in his hands. "They're fine," he assured her.

Sighing with relief, Molly felt much of the tension within her ease.

"They're safe," Sherlock continued. "As is Mycroft... And you."

Molly realised in that moment that there was so much more going on here than just the phone call. So much more that she had no knowledge of.

But as she looked at Sherlock, exhaustion finally taking its toll, she knew now wasn't the time for explanations.

So she hauled him out of the chair and down the hall, thankful years of dealing with cadaver dead weight meant handling a nearly comatose Sherlock wasn't that difficult at all.

Once she's manoeuvred him into her bedroom, she undressed him and got him into bed.

As soon as she joined him under the covers, Sherlock pulled her to him, her back to his front. With his arms secure around her waist, and his nose buried between her neck and shoulder, he let out a contented sigh as his mind and body finally relaxed.

In the blink of an eye he was sound asleep.


	3. Comfort and Forgiveness

MOLLY'S FLAT

Molly was jolted awake. Sherlock was thrashing about and moaning, caught up in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

"Redbeard! Victor!" he called out frantically, and then he began sobbing uncontrollably. "Why Eurus? Why did you do it?"

Desperate to offer him what comfort she could, Molly attempted to reach out to him, but Sherlock would have none of it, battering her hands away.

Shortly thereafter he seemed to calm down enough to settle back to sleep, when, without warning his whole body went rigid, and he started screaming her name.

"Molly! Please Molly! Say it, say it, just say it damn you!" Then the scream turned into a snarl, with his teeth bared he announced triumphantly. "I won Eurus, I won. I saved Molly Hooper." But the triumph was wiped from his face, and he let out the most deafening roar before appearing to rip something apart with his bare hands.

Molly remembered the slivers of wood she'd removed from those same damaged hands. This wasn't a bad dream, this was a recent memory.

When she reached for him a second time, Sherlock came willingly. Awake now, he clung to Molly as all the emotions he'd kept so carefully buried rose up once again, threatening to overwhelm him.

With Molly's cheek resting against his forehead, and her fingers weaving their way through his hair, to gently kneed and stroke his messy curls, Sherlock felt the threat ease, leaving him calm and at peace.

Only then did Molly get up and out of bed. Walking over to her wardrobe she grabbed two dressing gowns. Sherlock's she placed at the end of the bed before putting on her own.

"I'm just going to get breakfast ready. Why don't you go have a shower, and then we can talk."

Sherlock made no response, now lost in his Mind Palace.

Molly left him to his thoughts. Whatever she was about to learn, she wanted to know it on a full stomach.

She'd just placed their breakfast on the low table by the sofa when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, dressed once again in his suit.

Once seated, he looked around him, clearly looking for something. Not finding it he frowned and turned to Molly who'd joined him on the sofa. "Where's Tobias?"

Molly's expression instantly triggered another recent, painful memory...

"Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, because I'm not having a good day?"

Why had he not seen it earlier, no ratty old blanket adorning the armchair, no toys for him to trip over, the cat scratching tower missing from where it usually stood. All led to one inescapable conclusion.

Had Eurus known that Molly's beloved feline had passed away that day?

Of course she had, given the surveillance cameras she'd had installed in the flat for God knows how long.

Sherlock closed his eyes at the realisation of how he'd been used a second time, though unwittingly to cause Molly more unnecessary pain.

"I'm so sorry, Molly. I know how, fond of him you were."

Molly gave him a small smile in thanks. "It's all right Sherlock, you weren't to know. He went peacefully." Feeling the familiar burn of welling tears she quickly changed the subject. "Let's have our breakfast before it gets cold."

Sherlock acquiesced to her suggestion without argument.

But once the breakfast was eaten, the coffee drunk and the dishes washed, they knew they could no longer delay the inevitable.

Sitting back on the sofa, Sherlock turned to Molly. "Where do you want me to begin?'

"Who's Eurus?"

Sherlock nodded his head in acceptance and approval, Molly was never one for taking the easy way out.

"Eurus is my younger sister," he began, watching Molly closely.

Clearly surprised, she waited quietly to hear more.

"According to Mycroft her intelligence was described as 'era defining genius, beyond Newton'. Unfortunately she was also a psychopath, and an extremely dangerous one."

He told Molly all there was to know:  
\- About her jealousy over his friendship with Victor Trevor. And what she had done to him.  
\- Burning down Musgrave Hall.  
\- Being sent away.  
\- How what his sister had done had traumatised him, and how he had dealt with it. Forgetting his sister existed while turning his childhood best friend into a dog.  
On and on right up until the events that happened the day before.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," Sherlock said sadly. "I never meant for you to be in such danger. I've always tried to keep you safe, but you continually put yourself in harm's way, despite my best efforts."

"Sherlock, you must know by now that I will always be here to help you in any way that I can, the consequences be damned."

"I know," he assured her with a smile.

"And," she continued, taking a deep breath. "If we're talking apologies, then I need to add my own."

Sherlock frowned in confusion, "Whatever for?"

"I should never have made you say...what I did," she replied, her eyes downcast. She felt so deeply ashamed, now that she knew what he'd been put through.

"Molly, look at me."

Once she had, he continued.

"You have nothing to apologise for. You were just another pawn in Eurus' game."

Before Molly could respond, Sherlock's mobile rang. Upon checking the call ID Sherlock said regretfully. "I'm sorry, I need to take this."

"Of course."

Sherlock got to his feet as he finally answered the call. "Hello, Mycroft..."


	4. Affection, Sexual Passion, Loving

MOLLY'S FLAT

While Sherlock spoke with his brother, Molly went into the kitchen to put the dishes away, to give him some privacy.

When she returned to the sitting room, the phone conversation was clearly nearing its end. "I'll be there shortly."

As soon as he'd pocketed his mobile, Sherlock walked over to where Molly had placed his belstaff, and put it on.

Realising that this might be the only opportunity for them to openly discuss the elephant that was still hanging precariously over their heads, Molly walked up to the detective.

Reaching up she turned his coat collar down, before running her hands nervously up and down his lapels. "Sherlock," she began cautiously.

Sherlock braced himself, knowing full well what was coming. But instead of making a comment based on what he had already deduced he remained silent, waiting patiently for Molly to continue.

At last she looked up at him, meeting his gaze straight on.

"I can't unsay what I said, Sherlock. I have always loved you, and I probably always will," she paused a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "Knowing what I feel for you... It won't destroy our friendship, will it?"

Sherlock responded by enveloping her in a warm embrace, his chin resting comfortably on top of her head, as his arms wrapped themselves around her petite form.

"It's true that the dynamic of our relationship has been irretrievably altered by that phone call," he agreed. "But has it destroyed our friendship? No, not even close." Pulling back so that he could look Molly in the eye, he continued. "You were right. I have always known that you loved me. But as I'd convinced myself that sentiment was a defect, I dismissed it, and your romantic feelings for me as irrelevant," he paused briefly, continuing again with words chosen with obvious care. "It was only when you forced me to say those words out loud that the one secret I had kept hidden, even from myself, was finally revealed for all to see. As unbelievable as it may seem, it is nonetheless impossibly true, I do love you Molly Hooper."

His words confirmed what she'd believed when he'd said the words the second time. But when Molly looked into his eyes she saw not only his affection for her mirrored there, but also sorrow and regret.

"One day, maybe, I'll be able to say those words to you in the full knowledge that I mean them with every beat of my heart. But I don't believe I'm there yet."

Molly reached up a hand to gently sooth the frown that marred his brow.

"No, I don't think you are," she acknowledged. "And that's okay. Take all the time you need," and then with a cheeky grin she added. "When you're ready, you know where to find me."

Sherlock felt an immense relief wash over him, thankful he had someone so caring and understanding in his life as Molly Hooper.

But when after a couple of minutes he still hadn't made a move to leave, Molly felt compelled to remind him.

"Don't you have to go and see your brother?"

Sherlock's expression immediately became more serious. "Yes I need to go. Mycroft has arranged a meeting with our parents. There's a lot to explain."

"Then you need to get going," Molly urged. "They'll need your strength."

Sherlock leant down to press a chaste kiss upon her lips. "As I will always need yours," he told her, knowing full well that his pathologist already knew.

Just as he headed out the door, he paused and turned back. "By the way, Mycroft is sending some of his people over to remove all the cameras." Then with a playful wink, he turned, to stride purposefully towards a new and infinitely more exciting, if unpredictable future.


End file.
